Sunflowers in the Snow
by dizzy-bird
Summary: Lily Evans hates everything about Christmas - the snow, the gifts, the carols. But when James Potter invites her to spend the holiday with him, she begins to reconsider. Misery loves company, after all.
1. Mid-December

Lily Evans hated Christmas.

For most people, Christmas was a holiday best spent with friends and family. It was a time for spiced drinks and shopping, a time for partaking in nauseatingly cute traditions like carolling or seeing a pantomime.

Lily wasn't most people.

For one thing, she worked as a Healer in St Mungo's Magical Accidents and Emergencies Department, and they didn't close for the holidays. Or ever, really.

For another, she had friends, but no family — unless you counted her estranged sister, but they weren't on speaking terms. This meant that she spent Christmas one of two ways: either working in the MA&E, or else alone in her flat, eating takeaway and watching the Queen's speech. The MA&E was exhausting, but being alone on Christmas was just pathetic.

That was why, if she had to rank the holidays, Christmas would fall dead last.

There was one Christmas tradition she'd never managed to wriggle out of, however. And she was running late for it.

At the end of her shift at St Mungo's, she ducked into a changing room and pulled off her emerald robes, which were stained and damp with sweat. As she changed into a more-presentable jumper and skirt, she glanced at herself in the mirror, frowning at what she saw there. She looked as if she'd just worked for fourteen hours straight. Which, in fact, she had.

On days like this, she regretted not having joined the Order when she'd had the chance. She could have retired in her early twenties, a war hero, like half of the Order had done, instead of working gruelling shifts in the MA&E.

She'd very nearly joined the Order, too, after graduating from Hogwarts. It had been a choice between the Order and Healing, and she'd chosen Healing, because —

Something soft and cold brushed against her leg. An ethereal silver cat curled its tail around her calf, giving her a rather scornful look.

The cat opened its mouth. "Where are you?" It asked. It sounded exactly like Marlene McKinnon, her best friend since Hogwarts. "We've been waiting over an hour in the bloody cold."

Over an hour? She'd expected them to go on without her after fifteen minutes.

Maybe she could still get out of this. It wasn't too late.

"Tell her she shouldn't have waited," Lily said to the Patronus. "Got held up at work, not sure if I'll make it..."

The cat paused, presumably relaying the message. After a moment, it addressed her again. "Lily Evans, you are a terrible liar. Get your overworked arse to Godric's Hollow as soon as you can. And don't even think about standing us up — we're not letting you rot in your apartment."

Damn. Well, it had been worth a shot.

Lily cast one last glance in the mirror and sighed. She hurried down to the ground floor of St Mungo's, which was still packed with witches and wizards who were waiting to be examined. How was that even possible? She'd spent the past fourteen hours Healing people, and still they kept coming. It never stopped.

She spun on her heel, Disapparating.

She reappeared on Godric's Hollow's main street. It was snowing, unlike in London. Also unlike London, the village was covered in holiday decorations. The brightly-lit shopfronts made her dizzy with their dazzling Christmas lights, and it sounded like twelve different carols were playing at once.

Lily pulled her coat tighter as she walked towards the village square, certain she'd have a headache before the night was over. The _Daily Prophet_ had declared Godric's Hollow to be wizarding Britain's most festive town for the seventh year in a row, and its inhabitants were clearly proud of this. They'd gone even more overboard with the decorations this year.

Be positive, she told herself, snow crunching under her boots. It could be worse.

For example, the village square was free of enchanted ice sculptures, which was a pleasant surprise. Last year, the square had been home to a herd of icy reindeer that had pranced around and left piles of frozen dung everywhere.

"There you are," said a voice. Marlene McKinnon was sitting on a nearby bench, holding hands with Dorcas Meadowes, her girlfriend. They both looked quite comfortable, especially considering they had spent over an hour in the cold. Lily suspected either Warming Charms, or the flask Marlene carried under her robes.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "It got busy right at the end of my shift — flying sleigh accident, of all things. Had to stay 'til that was sorted."

"We figured it was something like that," said Dorcas, smiling. She was taller than Marlene and had dark brown skin and a gap between her front teeth. Although she was wearing stylish furs above a set of festive Christmas robes, looking every inch a capable witch, Lily knew that the chestnut wand at Dorcas' hip was a fake. Despite being a Muggle, Dorcas had been part of the Order — it was where she had met Marlene — and had even fought Voldemort several times during the war.

"Ready to have a look at the lights, then?" asked Marlene. "The decorations this year are excellent, you should see the display the Abbots have put up…"

Lily smiled in spite of herself. Marlene and Dorcas had always made a point of including Lily in their holiday plans. She might not like Christmas, but she truly appreciated the gesture. Walking with them around Godric's Hollow, admiring the lights, was the only truly festive thing she ever did during the holidays.

Dorcas nudged her. "Did you notice what someone did to the statue?"

She gestured towards the statue in the middle of the square, which depicted a victorious Dumbledore standing over the body of Lord Voldemort. Someone had dressed Dumbledore to look like Father Christmas, complete with fluffy red robes and a long cap.

Lily smiled. "I've always thought Dumbledore looked like Santa Claus."

"Who?" asked Marlene.

Lily and Dorcas exchanged an incredulous look. "I've told you this a hundred times, Marly," said Dorcas. "He's the Muggle version of Father Christmas."

"Oh, that's right," said Marlene. "You Muggles always have such funny names for things, it's hard to keep them all straight…"

Dorcas rolled her eyes at Lily, then kissed Marlene affectionately on the cheek.

They turned down a lavishly-decorated street. Beautiful garlands wound up the streetlamps, and the houses were so covered in lights that it was hard to know where to look.

Lily could have spent an hour on this street alone, taking in all the details, had she been someone who actually enjoyed looking at Christmas lights. In truth, though, she was really only looking forward to seeing one house in particular. The Potters' house.

James Potter was her ex. 'Ex' was possibly too strong of a word for it; they'd dated five years ago, during their last year at Hogwarts. He'd been her first love, her Hogwarts sweetheart, and she had gotten over him, truly.

Except.

It was his fault she couldn't forget about him entirely; well, him and his parents. The Potters — Fleamont, Euphemia, and their son, James — were well-known for putting up the best Christmas lights in the village. This was terrible, because she took far too much pleasure from admiring the decorations covering their little cottage, wondering which had been James' idea. Wondering if he'd Transfigured the strings of fairy lights himself, if he was adjusting well after the war, if he ever thought of her —

Lily stamped the snow under her feet harder than was strictly necessary, willing herself to stop thinking about him. For eleven months of the year, she barely gave James Potter a second thought. It was only during the last month, nettlesome December, when he seemed to take up space in her skull, an unwelcome guest.

She had no idea why she couldn't forget about him completely. They hadn't kept in touch after Hogwarts, and she hadn't seen him in years — not since just before the war's end.

He'd appeared in the MA&E one night, his unruly hair long and matted, holding an unconscious and bleeding Sirius Black in his arms. It had taken half a dozen Healers to staunch the bleeding, and as soon as Sirius had been stabilized, James had grabbed him by the arm and Apparated both of them away.

The war had ended just a few months after that. She'd crossed paths with Sirius a few times since then — he owned a popular pub in Hogsmeade that Marlene liked to frequent — but she hadn't seen James. There were rumours that he and Sirius had been instrumental in ending the war, but she wasn't sure if that was true. Marlene and Dorcas were tight-lipped about their time in the Order.

"There's the Abbots'," commented Marlene, bringing Lily out of her thoughts. She pointed to one house whose roof was bowing under the sheer weight of its decorations. Garden gnomes dressed as Santa's elves ran about frantically, trying to swipe ornaments from the bushes in the garden.

Lily laughed at the sight of the gnomes. "I can't believe they haven't been fined by the Improper Use of Magic Office yet. I mean, what'll the Muggles think if they see a bunch of gnomes running around?"

"Nah, I doubt the Ministry cares," said Marlene. "The Minister for Magic's busy enjoying another year of peace. He's not going to bother himself about people with too much holiday cheer."

They passed the church and graveyard that stood on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. There were fewer villagers strolling about here; music from carolers floated out of the church's stained glass windows, and a blanket of untouched snow lay over the graveyard.

Lily quickened her step. The Potters lived just beyond the church. Last Christmas, they had Transfigured their entire cottage into a gingerbread house, and this year's display was bound to be even better. James Potter, for all his faults, had always been indecently brilliant.

As they reached the Potters' house, Lily slowed her pace. She frowned, her excitement turning to confusion.

There were no Christmas lights illuminating the Potters' cottage. Overgrown vines crept up the sides of the house, and its interior was as dark and silent as the graveyard they had passed. It was as if the Potters had abandoned the cottage entirely.

"The Potters live here, right?" asked Lily. She tried to sound suitably uncertain, as if she didn't already know exactly who the house belonged to. "Did they move?"

Marlene and Dorcas exchanged a look. "You didn't hear?" asked Marlene.

"Hear what?" Maybe James had moved away. But even if he had left, wouldn't his parents still have put up Christmas decorations?

"It's just…" said Marlene. She hesitated. "James' parents passed away."

Lily's heart sank. "That's awful. What happened?"

"Dragon pox, I think," said Marlene.

Lily grimaced. They'd seen an influx of dragon pox at St Mungo's this winter, and it wasn't pretty. "That's terrible. Dragon pox in older wizards is… not good. Do you know how James is holding up?"

"Well, you know how he is," said Dorcas. Lily didn't, but she didn't interject. "It takes a lot to get him down. We had him round for dinner last month, though, and he seemed…sad. Not like his usual self."

Lily bit her lip and looked towards the darkened cottage. "Did he move?"

"I don't think so," said Marlene. She put her hands on the front gate and squinted, trying to peer into the windows. "Sirius and Remus let him crash at their place for a while, but as far as I know, he's still living here, in Godric's Hollow. Probably not in the mood for Christmas lights, though."

"It's a pity, " said Dorcas. "James loved putting up decorations with his parents. Used to, anyway."

"Well, maybe he'll be up for it next year," said Marlene, though she sounded uncertain. Dorcas shook her head.

The night felt colder on their walk back to the centre of the village. Even the well-lit shopfronts seemed dimmer, less festive. "I should go," said Lily once they had returned to the square.

"Have a drink with us!" protested Marlene. "They're doing Christmas karaoke at the White Hart, it's a Muggle pub so you'll know all the words…"

Nothing sounded worse to Lily than the words 'karaoke' and 'Christmas' in the same sentence. "I wish I could," she said, trying to sound tempted, "but I have to work tomorrow."

"You work too much," said Dorcas. "It's nearly Christmas! You ought to take some time off, enjoy the holiday."

"I've had my fill of holiday enjoyment for one night," said Lily darkly. "For the year, even."

"One of these days, you'll admit you actually like Christmas," said Marlene.

"I don't. It's awful. The lights have given me a headache."

"And yet, you still come to Godric's Hollow with us every year," said Marlene. She brightened, a thought occurring to her. "I know. Sirius is having a group over for drinks on Christmas Eve, at the Haunted Hound. You should come!"

"I have to —"

"… Don't say work," said Marlene.

"I told Healer Shafiq I'd cover a shift for her —"

"Well, tell her something's come up," said Marlene. "I think Mary will be there. She's dating Peter now, did you know that?"

Lily blinked, surprised. "Peter… Pettigrew?"

"They're cute together," said Dorcas defensively. "You'll see. You haven't seen Mary for ages, right?"

Lily softened a little. "I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts for ages."

"Then it's decided," said Marlene firmly. "You're coming to the Haunted Hound on Christmas Eve, even if I have to drag you there myself."

Lily kissed Marlene and Dorcas good-bye, promising she'd at least consider it, then Apparated home.

She lived in a small flat in the heart of London, within walking distance of St Mungo's. 'Small' was a bit of an exaggeration, really — her flat was barely bigger than a broom cupboard. She liked it that way, though.

She hung up her coat and made herself a cup of tea, which she sipped as she stared out her window. St Mungo's was visible from her flat; its hundreds of windows were still lit, flickering like lights on a Christmas tree. The hospital never slept.

Had James' parents come to St Mungo's when they realized they were ill? Did they go to the MA&E, or had they been transferred directly to one of the wards?

She turned from the window. Her imagination wasn't doing her any favours; wondering about the Potters' fate wouldn't bring them back. She sat on the sofa and pointed her wand at the fireplace.

Crackling flames rose in the hearth, but they did nothing to ease the chill she felt. She knew what James must be going through. Both of her parents were dead, too. Her father had passed when she was just a little girl, so she didn't remember him all that well. Her mum, though…

It had been December when her mother passed away. Blasted, freezing, miserable December.

Lily glanced at a thick, leather-bound book that was sitting on her bookcase, sandwiched between Healing magazines and Muggle novels. The book seemed to be calling to her, begging her to open it.

Bad idea, she thought. But she was feeling sentimental after seeing Marlene and Dorcas, and her resolve was weak. Against her better judgment, she pulled the book from the bookshelf and sat with it on the sofa.

It was a scrapbook she'd made during her last year of Hogwarts, before Lord Voldemort had fallen. She'd gotten a magical camera for her seventeenth birthday and had proceeded to document nearly every aspect of her life, fascinated by the moving photographs. Most of the pictures were of her friends — Marlene featured prominently, as did Mary — but there were a few photos of teachers, and the occasional artistic shot of the castle, as well.

She turned the page and paused. There it was. A photograph of her and James Potter, their arms around each other. They beamed at the camera, Head Boy and Girl badges pinned to their robes. The James Potter in the picture winked up at her, then kissed the Lily in the photograph on the cheek.

She shut the scrapbook. What was she doing, pining after James Potter? Why was she worried about him? He'd surely forgotten all about her. And even if he hadn't, he probably remembered her as the mad witch he'd dated at Hogwarts.

Lily cringed to think of the way she'd treated him after her mum had died. Grief had made her wild with anger, irrational. She'd broken up with him over a vase of sunflowers, of all things.

After her mum's funeral, Lily had gotten it in her head that she needed a vase of sunflowers to remember her by — they'd been her mother's favourite. But sunflowers didn't grow in December, so she'd tried to Transfigure some, and James had said that wasn't how Transfiguration worked.

So she'd picked a row with him, because her mum had died and she was furious about it, but James didn't back down. He'd said she was being ridiculous, that he'd help her with the flowers if she'd just calm down, and she'd said she was calm, that the problem was him, that she couldn't stand him and never had.

It wasn't true, but she'd had quite a temper back then, and grief had only heightened her worst impulses. Their row had woken half of Gryffindor tower, and when they had finished they were no longer on speaking terms with each other.

It was a stupid reason to break up, looking back on it. James had only been trying to help. And she'd paid the consequences for letting her temper get the better of her; the other Gryffindors had sided with James in the break up, except for Marlene. The only time they would talk to her would be to invite her the Order meetings they attended.

She'd found the gesture meaningless, at the time: the Order had been James' thing, and she didn't think she'd be welcome, if she showed up. Her last term at Hogwarts had been very lonely.

Lily placed the scrapbook back on the shelf and extinguished the fire with a wave of her wand. It was getting late; she'd surely regret her trip down memory lane when she had to wake up for work in the morning. But she couldn't get the image of the Potters' cottage, dark and silent, out of her mind.

Maybe he's forgiven me for being so mental, she thought as she crawled into bed. Now that he's lost his parents too.

That didn't make her feel better, though. It only made her sad.


	2. Christmas Eve

After her shift at St Mungo's on Wednesday, Lily arrived home to find a screech owl perched atop her kitchen table. There was a letter from Marlene in its beak.

_By the way, Lil,_ the parchment read in Marlene's untidy scrawl. _Sirius says you're welcome to come for drinks, and to tell you that they're doing a gift exchange this year. Everyone's been assigned someone to give a gift to. _

_He says you need to get Remus something, and you ought to spend five Galleons, max. If you need ideas, he recommends browsing the Defence section in Flourish and Blotts._

_Sound good?_

_Love from, Marlene._

There was a postscript. _P.S. I'm to get a gift for James Potter. Looks like he'll be there, too. Thought you might like a heads-up._

Lily read the postscript several times. She glanced at her scrapbook, which sat innocently on the bookcase, then back at the letter.

James Potter would be at the party. Would he be the same boy she'd dated at Hogwarts, or had the war changed him? Had his parents' deaths changed him? Did he really help Dumbledore defeat Voldemort?

It dawned on Lily that most of the people at Sirius' party would be former Order members. Would they judge her for not joining the Order, despite being Muggle-born? Would they resent her? Marlene and Dorcas would never, of course, but the others…

She contemplated owling Marlene to tell her she wouldn't be able to make it after all. She could pick up another shift at St Mungo's on Christmas Eve, and…

No. She was being ridiculous. She didn't flinch at blood or gore, but here she was, afraid of a holiday party. Lily shook her head, trying to bring herself back to her senses.

She could do this. She'd go to the party, catch up with her schoolmates. It wasn't like she had any other plans for Christmas Eve.

And — if she was really being honest with herself — it would be nice to see James Potter again.

On Thursday, Lily stopped by Flourish and Blott's after work and bought Remus an illustrated guide to spectres. On Friday, she realized she had nothing to wear to the party, so she went to Madame Malkin's and spent far too many Galleons on a dress in the window display that looked nice.

Saturday was Christmas Eve. She curled her eyelashes with her wand and Charmed a bit of colour into her cheeks, then changed into the dress she had bought at Madam Malkin's. It had long sleeves and a high neck, but it wasn't overly modest; the bust was fitted, and the silky fabric clung flatteringly to her figure. It was beautiful, and undoubtedly very trendy, but she'd never been fully comfortable in wizarding styles.

_James Potter will be at the party_, she thought. _You need to look nice_.

Not that she cared what he thought of her. But wasn't it natural to want to look incredible when seeing your ex for the first time in years?

She pulled on a fur-trimmed cloak and stepped out of her flat, Apparating away.

She reappeared in Hogsmeade, standing on the doorstep of a dilapidated pub that had once been the Shrieking Shack. A creaking wooden sign above the door read, 'The Haunted Hound'.

Lily had to admit Sirius had done an excellent job of renovating the Shack. Instead of trying to turn it into another cosy local pub, which were a dime a dozen these days, he'd played up its reputation for being haunted. The gamble had paid off; the Haunted Hound was one of Hogsmeade's most popular pubs.

The only sign of Christmas cheer was an old wreath hanging on the battered door. She admired Sirius' commitment to the bit; the wreath was browning at the edges.

The door swung open before she could knock. "Lily Evans!" exclaimed Sirius Black. He wore bright red robes that would have looked garish on anyone else, but on him they were flattering. His glossy black hair was just long enough to brush his jaw.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" said Lily as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Ages," agreed Sirius. He stepped back to examine her and whistled appreciatively, waving Remus Lupin over. "You look stunning. Doesn't she, Moony?"

"She does," said Remus. The premature wrinkles around his eyes creased warmly as he smiled at her. "How are you, Lily?"

"Great," she said. She handed Sirius the carefully-wrapped present she'd gotten for Remus. "I, er, brought this. For the gift exchange."

"Excellent," said Sirius, taking the present from her. "I'll put it under the Christmas tree." He gestured towards the tree, which appeared to have died long ago; its branches were bare, and brown pine needles scattered the floor below it. "Moony, get her a drink, will you?"

"It's good to see you," said Remus, leading her to the bar, which was lined with an array of bottles of varying shapes and sizes. The inside of the pub was only slightly less gloomy than its exterior; the lighting was dim, and a dark stain covered a large part of the floor, but everything appeared to be clean, at least.

"You, too," said Lily. "I love what you lot have done with this place. Very creepy."

"It's all Sirius' handiwork," said Remus. "I have full creative control of our flat upstairs, though, and it's much cosier than this. No false blood on the walls, for one."

She laughed. "What're you up to now, aside from decorating your flat? It's been so long…"

She'd been close to Remus at Hogwarts, but they'd lost touch after graduating. He'd all but fallen off the map during the war, making even sending letters to him impossible.

Now, though, he didn't look like he'd ever fought in a war. He even seemed free of the health problems that had plagued him as a student; there was colour in his face, and he filled out his jumper well.

"I'm at Hogwarts, actually," said Remus. "This is my second year teaching. Dumbledore offered me a position as the Defence professor after the war ended."

"That's fantastic," said Lily. "You've always had a knack for Defence. Your students are lucky to have you."

"Oh, I'm not sure they'd agree," said Remus. "Especially not after getting their marks back on their term papers."

He poured her a mug of Steaming Stout and led her to the crumbling hearth, where a group of people were gathered in a circle. A man with long black hair gathered into a sleek ponytail made room for her as she joined the group.

She recognized a few of the people here. There was Marlene, who was loudly telling a story, Dorcas, the Longbottoms, and — her heart skipped a beat — James Potter.

He was wearing a dark green jumper that went marvellously with his brown skin. His curly black hair was much shorter than the last time she had seen him, though a few unruly ringlets still fell into his eyes.

Was it her imagination, or was he staring at her?

"You came!" said Marlene, noticing Lily.

"I told you she would," said Dorcas smugly. "You owe me a Butterbeer."

"You bet on whether or not I would make it?" asked Lily. The back of her neck prickled; James was still watching her.

Well. Two could play the staring game.

She drank a bit of stout for courage, then met his eyes directly. He coughed a little, startled, and took a hasty drink from his mug.

Marlene cleared her throat. "Lily, this is James Potter, remember him? From Hogwarts?" She spoke dispassionately, as if introducing her to a stranger. "He was captain of the Quidditch team, as well as Head Boy. Won the Gobstones tournament our second year —"

"Yeah, I remember, thanks," said Lily. She didn't know whether she wanted to hug Marlene or hex her. Luckily, she was spared having to make the decision by James, who extended his hand towards her.

"It's good to see you again, Lily," he said. His hand was calloused, but not overly rough. "You're still at St Mungo's, then?"

"Yeah," she said. He seemed to be expecting her to elaborate, but her mind had gone suddenly blank. "Er, and you? You're doing professional Quidditch now, right?"

"Right," he said with a grin. "Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons." He'd gotten new glasses; the frames were thinner than the ones he had worn at Hogwarts.

"That's great," she said. "How do you like it?"

"Oh, it's brilliant," said James. "Sometimes I can't believe I'm getting paid to fly. Beats risking my neck trying to outwit a bunch of Death Eaters, I'll tell you that. Right, Reg?"

"Absolutely," said the young man with the ponytail, and Lily realized with a start that she was standing next to Regulus Black. Who, at her last count, was a loyal Death Eater and one of Lord Voldemort's inner circle.

"Regulus?" she asked incredulously. He'd been a prefect with her at Hogwarts, but she hadn't seen him since, for obvious reasons. Shouldn't he be in Azkaban?

Sirius elbowed his way into the conversation, draping an arm around Regulus. "It's alright, Lily." He spoke with the air of having said the same thing many times before. "Reg's not a Death Eater. He was a spy for our side during the war. Good thing, too — Voldemort confided in him, it's thanks to Reg that we found out about —"

"Reg's with the Falcons, too, now," said James, cutting Sirius off with a look. "Best Seeker we've had in about thirty years, if the _Quidditch Quarterly_'s to be believed…"

Regulus shook his head sheepishly. He certainly had a Seeker's build; he was tall, maybe even taller than Sirius, and quite thin. "The _Quarterly_'s rubbish, I expect it was our mum who paid them to write that about me…"

The conversation moved to Quidditch and the Falcons' chances next season. James, in particular, seemed especially relieved to be talking about something other than the war. Marlene and Sirius were debating whether the Falcons stood a chance against Puddlemere United when someone rapped smartly on the door.

"That'll be Peter and Mary," said Remus, excusing himself from the group. "I'll show them in, and then we can open presents."

"Pete!" roared Sirius, rushing past Remus and flinging open the door. James joined him, and they pulled Peter inside, leaving Remus to take Mary's coat. They greeted Peter like they hadn't seen him in years; Sirius jumped on his back, nearly knocking him over.

As their whoops and laughter filled the pub, Lily exchanged a look with Marlene. "Some things never change, do they?"

Marlene shook her head, smiling. "When those four are together, it's like they're sixteen again."

Mary MacDonald joined the group, her cheeks pink from the cold. "Lily! Peter didn't tell me you were coming!"

"I invited her," said Marlene. "Thought she could use a break from saving lives at St Mungo's."

"Oh, that's right," said Mary. "You're a full-fledged Healer now, aren't you? Don't you just love it?"

Lily wasn't sure that 'love' was the right word. She enjoyed Healing, certainly, but at times it could be difficult and stressful and all kinds of unpleasant. "It's great," she managed at last. "What about you? You're on the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, right?"

"Yeah, it's fantastic!" said Mary. "Now that the war's over, we can afford to be a little more creative with the excuses we submit. It's not all gas explosions and freak tornadoes, anymore." She brightened. "And Peter's on the Committee now, too! It's how we met."

Lily looked towards the door of the pub. Peter's mop of blond hair was just barely visible under the group wrestling match that was taking place. "Do they usually celebrate this much when they see each other?"

"Oh, yes," said Mary. "Sometimes I feel like I'm sharing Peter with three boyfriends."

James and Peter were dragging Sirius towards the hearth, presumably to throw him into the fire. "I can see why," said Lily. "How long do you think they're going to do this for?"

"Honestly?" said Mary. "Probably until they break something."

As if on cue, there was a loud crash; the boys had knocked over the withered Christmas tree.

"No worries!" exclaimed Sirius, jumping up. His hair was badly mussed, and his red robes were rumpled. "Nothing I can't fix…"

Eventually, the tree was set upright, though a few of its branches had snapped off in the scuffle.

"More drinks!" said Sirius, clapping his hands. "Who wants one?"

Remus poured Lily another stout, though she hadn't yet finished the first, and the group split off into several smaller conversations. Dorcas, Peter and Mary were talking passionately about Muggle rights during peacetime, while Marlene and Frank Longbottom were deep in conversation about some sort of situation in Scotland. Lily tried to join in, but it was like they were talking in code, and she realized that the Order might still be active, despite the war having ended.

She found herself drifting from conversation to conversation, not saying much. She couldn't help but feel like the odd woman out; everyone here had such a tight bond, having lived through the war together, while she…

While she what? She'd helped, too, even though she hadn't been in the Order. She'd helped Benjy Fenwick run the MA&E. They'd saved the lives of several Order members.

_You saved Death Eaters, too_, whispered a voice in her head. _Your friends resent you for it_.

Lily shook her head a little. Healers were bound by law to treat all who came through their doors. Her friends knew that; they didn't judge her for it. So why did she feel so left out?

It was blasted Christmas Eve, that was why. Heaven forbid she actually _enjoy _herself during the holidays.

"Can I get you a drink?" asked a voice.

She turned. James Potter was looking at her.

"I've already got one," she said, gesturing to her stout.

He shrugged. "Thought you didn't like it. You've hardly touched it."

He'd noticed. Lily wasn't sure what that meant. "I'm not in the mood, I guess."

"Nor am I," he admitted.

That was surprising. Lily raised her eyebrows a little. "You seemed in the mood when you were dog-piling Peter an hour ago."

"Did I?" He smiled his easy smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He had a small scar running across one eyebrow, so thin it was nearly imperceptible.

"Quidditch injury?" asked Lily, indicating the scar. "Or something else?"

James lifted a hand to his brow. "Something else. Got hit with debris from a Reductor Curse during the war. Couldn't get to St Mungo's at the time — long story — so I had Sirius take care of it."

"He did an excellent job. That's a good-looking scar."

"Don't tell him that. His ego's inflated enough as it is." He looked over her appreciatively. "Speaking of good-looking. That dress is beautiful."

All thoughts of Healing fled Lily's mind. "I — thank you."

"I meant to tell you earlier. You look stunning."

"I hate this dress," she said honestly, and he laughed.

"Not your style?"

"Not at all," she said with a grimace. "I'd prefer a nice pair of jeans any day."

"I haven't worn jeans in ages," said James. "Not since Hogwarts, probably. They were the fashion during our sixth year, remember?"

"How could I forget?" said Lily. "Mary and I made about a hundred Galleons each that year, selling our old jeans to the Hufflepuffs —"

She broke off as Sirius elbowed in between them, a tumbler of Firewhisky in each hand. "Time for presents!" he said. "Take your reminiscing to the tree, will you?"

With a wave of his wand, the furniture in the Haunted Hound rearranged itself. The tables pushed themselves back against the walls, making room for a ring of chairs around the pathetic-looking Christmas tree. Lily took a seat in a chair that was balancing precariously on only three legs. James sat beside her, unprompted.

"I'll go first," said Sirius grandly once everyone had gathered around the skeletal tree. He pulled a tiny package from the inside of his pocket and presented it to Marlene with a flourish.

Marlene took the gift, smirking. "Another phial of Sleekeazy's Sovereign Glue?"

"A little birdie told me somebody used all of yours," said Sirius.

"Yeah, _you _did," said Marlene, but she seemed pleased with the gift. She pulled out her wand, Summoning a small, square box from under the tree, and presented the present to James.

James lifted the top of the box and laughed. "You're joking…" He pulled out a miniature figurine of himself, aloft on a broomstick and in full Falcons robes.

"That was the last one left at Quality Quidditch," said Marlene with a smirk. "I think you're becoming quite popular…"

James shook his head, smiling. "My turn, then." He picked up a package from under the tree and returned to sit beside Lily. He turned to face her.

"Merry Christmas," he said, handing her the gift.

Lily's cheeks burned. She hadn't expected James Potter, of all people, to have gotten her a gift. The present was rectangular, with a good weight to it, and had been messily wrapped in parchment. She unwrapped it quickly, wishing a dozen people weren't watching her.

As she pulled off the last of the parchment, her heart sank. He'd gotten her a set of perfumed potions, the kind they sold at Gambol and Japes'. It was the type of gift you got your cousin, or a coworker you didn't particularly like — the potions were frilly, feminine, and completely impersonal.

"Thank you," she said, fighting the disappointment that was sinking like a stone through her chest. Of course he wasn't going to give her anything meaningful. They didn't know each other anymore.

James ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. "I, er, wasn't sure what you'd like."

"It's a great gift," she said, her voice falsely chipper. "I really like perfumed potions. Use them all the time." She unstoppered one of the potions and sniffed it enthusiastically. "Mmm. Is that lilac?"

"I think it's vanilla, actually," said James.

"Oh," she said, deflating. "Right."

Across the room, Remus and Sirius exchanged worried looks.

Lily set the potions at her feet and gave Remus the book she had bought for him. It took another half an hour for everybody to receive their gifts; at last, Peter gave Sirius a new set of wrenches for his motorbike, completing the gift exchange.

Sirius proposed one last round of drinks, which turned into two, though Lily continued nursing her stout. Eventually, Marlene and Dorcas announced they had to be getting on. Peter and Mary left next, stepping into the hearth and vanishing in a blaze of emerald flames.

One by one, the others trickled out, until Lily realized with a start that she and James were the only guests left.

"Where's Regulus?" she asked as she helped Remus wash the mugs and glasses in the sink. She hadn't noticed him leave.

"Stepped out during the last round of Firewhiskey, I think," said Remus. "He's a bit hard to keep track of, sometimes."

"I should be going, too," she said. "Don't want to overstay my welcome."

"How're you getting home?" asked Sirius. He and James were seated at the bar, playing Wizarding chess. "Are you sober enough to Apparate? I'm sure Prongs wouldn't mind Side-Alonging you, if you need…"

James knocked over a bishop, which shouted indignantly as it fell on the floor. He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, blinking at Sirius as if he wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly.

"I'm not drunk," said Lily. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

And there was no way she was spending more time with James than strictly necessary, not after that gift he'd given her. She could take a hint.

"Splinching yourself is no joke," added Remus. "Why don't you take Prongs up on the offer?"

"But he _didn't _offer," said Lily. "Sirius did."

"I don't mind," said James hastily as he scooped the bishop off of the floor.

"See?" said Sirius.

"Go on, Lily," said Remus. "You don't want to lose a fingernail. Better safe than sorry, I always say."

Lily narrowed her eyes. What were he and Sirius playing at? "If you really don't mind, James…"

"I really don't," said James, and was she hearing things, or did he actually sound eager?

"Checkmate," said Sirius, moving his queen forward with a finger. "Good game, Prongs. Wish we could play another, but I'm beat." As if to exaggerate his point, he yawned loudly.

"We're off to bed, then," said Remus, drying his hands on a towel. "Lily, James, stay as long as you like. Sirius hid a bottle of Gamp's Old Gregarious behind the bar, if you're feeling so inclined…"

"That's for our anniversary!" protested Sirius. "Moony, have you been _snooping_? You know you're not allowed to look under the sink, that's — totally out of bounds —"

Remus smiled and gave Sirius a peck on the lips. Sirius' grumbles died down, and they vanished up the stairs.

Lily and James looked at each other.

"That was subtle," said Lily.

James ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that. Sometimes Sirius gets carried away. He likes to act like we're still seventeen, as if we haven't all, you know…"

_As if we haven't all moved on_. He didn't say the words, but he may as well have.

"Right," said Lily, who was beginning to feel mortified for ever having considered the possibility of rekindling her romance with James. She knew taking out the scrapbook had been a mistake, and here she was, suffering the consequences. "Think I'll be off, then."

A corner of James' lip twisted in an ironic smile. "You don't want to share the bottle of Gamp's?"

"Do _you_?" countered Lily. The words came out rather more forcefully than she'd intended.

James looked at her steadily, as if he were seriously considering it. "I could think of worse drinking partners."

"I can't," said Lily, fastening her cloak. "I'm no fun to be around this time of year."

"Nor am I," said James.

That was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard in her life. James was _always _fun to be around. He drew people towards him like he had his own centre of gravity. "You're joking, right?"

His jaw tightened. "No."

Lily strode behind the bar and wrenched open the cupboard under the sink.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

She placed the bottle of Gamp's on the bar. "If we're going to have a pissing contest over which of us is the worse company, then I need something else to drink." She Summoned two clean tumblers from the sink and poured them both a generous amount of whisky.

James swirled the amber liquid in his glass, looking thoughtful. "You first, then. What makes you such a miserable hag?"

"Easy," said Lily, downing her drink. "I hate Christmas."

His eyes widened. "You hate Christmas? Why?"

_Because my mum died in December and I'm always alone_. "Long story. Mostly because it's tacky."

"Christmas isn't tacky," said James. "It's the most magical time of the year."

He spoke completely in earnest. It was strangely endearing. "Well," she said, "that's why I'm such poor company. Unlike the rest of the world, I _detest _the most magical time of the year."

"You ought to give Christmas a chance. Ever gone carolling? Or seen a panto?"

She shuddered. "No, thank you. Go on then — your turn."

"Oh," he said, as if he'd already forgotten what they were talking about. "Alright. Er. Sirius says I work too much."

"And is he right?" She's not sure what's made her ask this. Maybe the whiskey.

James lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. "Any amount of work is too much for him, I think. Even this pub… it's not a job for him so much as it is something to do. He doesn't understand why I don't just… live off my inheritance. Like he does."

"Why don't you?"

"I like being busy," he explained. "And Quidditch is the best kind of busy. I like the training, the travelling. Being away from home a lot. It keeps me from… brooding, I guess."

"You don't like going home?"

"That's not it." He looked like he was struggling silently with whether or not to say more, and eventually settled for pouring himself another drink.

"Your parents passed, didn't they?" asked Lily softly.

James nodded stiffly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's really hard, being alone for the holidays."

James jumped up from the bar, drink forgotten. He began to pace back and forth, as if he couldn't sit still for a minute longer, not when talking about something this serious. "Christmas was their favourite. We always — we'd put up these lights, decorations, that kind of thing. My mum loved it. Last year we Transfigured the house to make it look like it was made of gingerbread —"

"I saw," said Lily.

James stopped pacing long enough to glance at her. "You did?"

"Marlene and I always look at the lights in Godric's Hollow. We've done it since the war ended." After a moment, she added, "Your house always had the best ones."

"Did you go to Godric's Hollow this year?" He spoke casually, but his shoulders were drawn up to his ears, as if readying for a blow.

"I did."

"And?"

She decided to be honest. "I was sorry to see you hadn't decorated this year. I understand why you wouldn't want to, though."

James nodded, relaxing a little. Lily decided to prod a little further. "Have you got plans for Christmas?" She knew from experience that the first Christmas without family was the hardest. Not wanting to sound like she was insinuating that he should spend the holiday with _her_, she added, "Have Remus and Sirius offered…?"

James shook his head. "They're going to Wales to see Remus' family. They said I was welcome to come, too, but…"

Lily understood. Marlene and Dorcas had offered the same to her, and she'd declined. "I get it."

James glanced at her, his expression somewhat hopeful. "You do?"

"Yeah. It's weird to spend Christmas with other people's families. At first you're grateful, because it means you're not spending the holidays alone, but in the end it just makes you miss your own family more. Because other families… they've got all their traditions, and inside jokes. And you're an outsider."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"I am. Haven't had a Christmas with family since I was seventeen."

James pressed his lips together, doing the math. "Five years. What about your sister?"

She was surprised he remembered she had a sister. "We're… not on speaking terms." For all Petunia knew, she might have died in the war.

"Five years without a real Christmas," he said, as if he couldn't believe it. "Well. You've nearly convinced me."

"Of what?"

"That you're right miserable to be around this time of year. Except I don't believe it."

"And why not?" She was just trying to prolong the conversation now. If they ran out of things to talk about, she really would have to leave, and somehow she wasn't ready for that yet.

"Well," he said fairly, "we've just spent the last… four hours? In each other's company, and I'm not tired of you yet. So you must be alright."

"You're just saying that because I'm wearing a pretty dress."

He caught the playfulness in her voice. "That must be it. I'm sure I'll be ready to tear your hair out by hour six."

Well. When he put it like _that_… Lily found her mind wandering back to when they were teenagers, alone and eager in the Room of Many Things.

"You win the pissing contest, anyway," she said, trying to quell the blush that was rising to her cheeks. "I might have more practice, but nothing is worse than that first Christmas alone. So you're allowed to be as miserable as you like."

James made a face. "I don't want to be miserable. And I don't want to spend Christmas alone." He looked at her, as if a thought had occurred to him.

"Yes?"

He fidgeted with his glasses, then his hair. "They say misery loves company, right?"

"They do." She ran a finger along the rim of her tumbler. He was clearly trying to work up a bit of courage, so she decided to help him along. "What are you trying to say?"

"Just." He paused. Mussed his hair with his hands again. "We had a decent time tonight, didn't we?"

His hair looked terrible like that, the curls going in every direction. She found it surprisingly attractive. "I suppose we did. Despite our best efforts to drag each other down."

"We could do it again," said James. "Just us, this time, I mean. Since everyone else will be with family."

Lily's mouth was suddenly very dry. She wasn't hallucinating this, right? Gamp's wasn't that strong, but maybe Sirius had spiked it with something. "Are you suggesting we spend Christmas together? Tomorrow?"

"'Course, if you don't want to," said James hurriedly, but she cut him off.

"Don't be daft, of course I want to. I think it's a great idea."

He looked at her sceptically. "You do?"

"Yeah. It makes sense, doesn't it? No point in both of us sitting around alone."

James looked as if he couldn't believe she was actually willing to spend more time with him. She hadn't been _that_ terrible to him at Hogwarts, had she?

"Really?" he asked.

Well. Maybe she had. "Really," she said, and she placed a hand on his arm to set him at ease.

He stiffened as soon as she touched him. "You — er. You can come round to my place, how's that sound?"

"That's perfect," she said. "Should I bring anything? Food, or some drinks?"

"Perfect," he repeated. He ran a hand through his hair, flustered but clearly pleased with himself. "No, I can take care of the food. And no presents."

"Definitely no presents," she agreed. If a set of perfumed potions had been his first choice of gift for her, she hated to think what his other ideas would be.

Their plans made, she returned the bottle of Gamp's to the cupboard under the sink and gathered the damned potions set in her arms. She threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace — there was no way she was letting Jame Side-Along her, not after the drinks they'd had — and turned to say good-bye.

James was still at the bar, watching her appreciatively. "You look even better with the cape on, you know."

He spoke so plainly, as if stating a fact. Snow was cold, and Lily looked even better with the cape on.

"You flatter me," she said.

James shrugged, unbothered. "Someone needed to say it. The others were all thinking that you looked beautiful. I could tell."

"A mind-reader, are you?"

James grinned. "Maybe."

"Go on, then," she said playfully. Tell me what I'm thinking."

James narrowed his eyes in concentration, then pressed a hand against his chest, shocked. "Merlin's pants. Lily Evans, that is _naughty _—"

She laughed. "Oh, you wish."

"Shame, shame," he said, waggling a finger at her. "You shouldn't tempt a bloke like that."

_He _was the one tempting _her_, but she didn't think pointing that out would help matters. She pulled the cape more tightly around herself. "And now I think I need to go home before I get myself into trouble."

His eyes darkened; he looked at her almost hungrily. "Nothing wrong with a bit of trouble."

She very nearly took him up on it. But they'd both been drinking, and she didn't want to do something she'd regret. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too," she said, surprised to find it was true. She couldn't remember the last time she had looked forward to Christmas.

He raised his glass in farewell. "Sweet dreams, Lily."

She liked the way he said her name. Too much.

"See you soon," she said, and she stepped into the emerald flames.


	3. Christmas Day

The next morning — Christmas morning — she slept in for as long as she possibly could, hoping to stave off a hangover. She couldn't believe she'd agreed to spend the day with James Potter. What was she thinking? She didn't even _like _Christmas, and James Potter was practically a stranger to her. This was a terrible idea.

If only her stomach would stop doing somersaults whenever she thought about him. And if only he didn't look at her like... _that_. Like he wanted to whisk her away to the Room of Many Things.

After rolling out of bed and taking a reluctant shower, she spent the rest of the morning in Muggle London, shopping for a present for James. Even though they'd agreed on no presents, she had to give him _something_. It was Christmas, after all. She was pretty sure showing up empty-handed would entitle her to seven years' bad luck, which she definitely did not need.

Most of the shops were closed for the holiday, but she finally had a bit of luck at a towering department store. She had just enough time to pop home and wrap the gift before Apparating to Godric's Hollow.

She appeared outside the fence surrounding the Potters' cottage. The exterior of the house was as bare as ever, but a few lights flickered in the windows.

There was no wreath on the front door of the cottage. Lily knocked, hoping her heart was only pounding from the stress of Apparition.

After a moment, the door swung open. "Come in!" said James, ushering her inside. He was wearing a stained apron, and his curly black hair stood in all directions. "No dress this time?" he asked, taking her coat.

She'd thought about it, but decided that showing up in a second gorgeous dress would have made her seem desperate. Which she wasn't, considering they were just friends. Probably.

Lily gestured to her Muggle jumper and skirt. "If we're going to be spending a miserable Christmas together, I want to at least be comfortable."

The gesture brought James' attention to the present she was holding. "You brought a gift?"

"Well, it's Christmas," she said lamely. "I had to bring _something_. Especially since you're doing all the cooking."

"Er, right." James shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "About that. It's not that I _can't_ cook, because I can. I'm just not used to making… traditional English dishes. Roast goose and Christmas cake and what-have-you. The goose is almost done, though. I think."

"You didn't have to make all that on my behalf," said Lily. "What do you usually have for Christmas?"

"Mum always made Indian food," said James absently as he led her into the kitchen. "Vindaloo and dumplings, things like that. We have our own kind of cake, too. I wasn't sure you'd like it."

The interior of the cottage was old-fashioned, even quaint, and very lived-in; it looked like it belonged to an older couple, not an eligible bachelor and Quidditch star. James must have left everything as was after inheriting the cottage.

"I do like Indian," she assured him. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose as an acrid smell filled her nostrils. "Erm, is the goose supposed to smell like that?"

James swore, and hastily pulled the goose out of the oven. It was charred black and smoking slightly. "Shit," he said. "I put an Accelerating Charm on the oven, trying to speed things up a bit…"

Lily laughed. "Well, there's still the Christmas cake, right? Did you make any side dishes?"

"Yeah, but I don't think they came out much better," said James. He picked up the pan with the goose on it and brought it to the dining room table, setting it next to a plate of boiled carrots and what looked to be an attempt at Yorkshire pudding. Though the table could fit ten people comfortably, there were only two places set.

"The carrots look good," said Lily encouragingly, taking a seat. She was suddenly very glad she had come; the thought of James eating alone at this huge table was depressing. "And I bet the goose looks worse than it is, let's see…"

She cut herself a slice of meat and ladled a generous dollop of the carrots and Yorkshire pudding onto her plate. She took a tiny bite of goose and had to immediately resist the urge to spit it out; it tasted like rubbery charcoal.

James was watching her hopefully. "Any good?"

Lily forced herself to swallow. "Er, yeah, it's…" She took a small sip of wine. It would probably take the entire glass to wash the taste of the goose away.

"It's awful, isn't it?" he asked, deflating.

"It isn't awful! It's just a little… burnt."

"I bet it's shit," said James. He shoved a piece of goose in his mouth before she could stop him and promptly began to choke.

"That's disgusting," he said, spitting a wad of goose into a napkin. "I was right. It _is _shit." He seemed a little pleased to have been right about it.

Lily tried a bite of Yorkshire pudding, which was entirely tasteless. "This is better," she said, which was technically true.

James took a cue from her and tried the Yorkshire pudding. He swore loudly. "It doesn't taste like _anything_." He eyed the pudding with more disgust than he'd even given the goose.

"You didn't happen to charm the pudding, too, did you?"

James' shoulders drooped. "Gemino Charm. I didn't have enough eggs."

That explained it. Magically duplicated food always came out tasteless. "There's still the boiled carrots," said Lily, trying to sound optimistic.

"Forget it," said James. "I'm not eating a plate of bloody _carrots _on Christmas." He ran a hand through his messy hair, frustrated.

"It's fine," she said, trying to soothe him. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. I said I'd host, and I made you something completely inedible."

"James, I don't care that it's inedible. It was lovely of you to cook for me in the first place. Especially since it's not what you usually eat for Christmas."

He blinked, startled that she was complimenting him. "Everything turned out awful, though."

"Well, yes, but we're not going to starve," she said. "I know how we can get some food."

"How's that? The shops are all closed…"

She grinned. "Ever heard of takeaway?"

She had to use the phone booth down the street to order, since there was no telephone in the Potter cottage. An hour later, an acne-covered boy on a bike knocked on the door, and Lily introduced James to the magic of Muggle takeaway.

"This is amazing," said James, digging into a kebab that was overflowing with sauce.

"You know," said Lily, "Roast goose is nice and all, but takeaway is what I actually eat on Christmas."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"I can see why," he said. "Who in their right mind would go for Yorkshire pudding over this?"

"You want to know the best part?" she said. "There's no dishes to wash."

When they had finished, they tossed the empty, greasy containers into the bin. Lily helped Vanish the charred goose, feeling strangely melancholic. Their Christmas together was nearly over, and it hadn't been half bad. They'd probably have a round of drinks, maybe some chocolate and cheese, and then — then what?

They'd go back to their lives. Her to St Mungo's, him to his Quidditch training. She wasn't sure why the prospect seemed so unpleasant; a week ago, she'd had no idea what James Potter was doing, and she hadn't cared. So what had changed?

"Shall we open presents?" asked James. They had moved to the sitting room and were seated at opposite ends of the sofa, a tea tray containing a bottle of Firewhisky balanced on the cushion between them. There was no Christmas tree in the corner, no holiday decorations above the hearth.

"What presents? We agreed —"

"…No gifts," finished James. "But you brought one anyway."

"Only because — look, mine isn't even anything special, you don't need to give me anything in return…"

"What if I want to?"

Why would he want to give her a gift? "You already gave me that potions set at Sirius and Remus' party —"

"That was a terrible present."

He said it so bluntly that it caught her off guard. "What?" she said. "No, that was — it was fine —"

"You can stop telling me things are fine when I know they're shit." He wasn't criticizing her; he seemed more amused than anything.

"Alright," she said lightly. "I won't spare your feelings anymore. Fair warning, though — I can be awfully opinionated."

James grinned. "I remember. When we were at Hogwarts, you never backed down, not even to teachers. Nobody could tell you anything." He leaned against the sofa, tumbler in hand. "I loved that about you."

It was suddenly hard to breathe. With that casual admission, he had sucked all the air out of the room. She'd been tiptoeing around their shared past since the party, and here he was acknowledging it aloud.

"I was a know-it-all and a terror." She tried to sound sufficiently self-deprecating. "Shall we open presents?" A change of subject would do them both good.

James nodded. He seemed to have picked up on her discomfort. She pointed her wand behind her, Summoning her present from where it sat on the kitchen worktop.

James caught the gift as it zoomed towards them. Lily tried not to admire the way he snatched it out of the air like it was Quaffle, his broad hands planted firmly on either side of the box. He lifted the present to his ear and shook it, trying to figure out what was inside. "Sounds sort of — damp. Bit heavy, though. Clothes?"

Damn. She hadn't thought it would be that obvious. "Good guess."

"I've had loads of practice," he said. "Sirius and I used to make a game of it, after he moved in with us. We'd compete to see who could guess what was in the presents. My parents…" He gripped the box more tightly.

Lily knew how that felt. There had been so many times she'd wanted to share a story about her mum, but hadn't because it would make her friends uncomfortable. They didn't know how to react when she started talking about her dead parents. "Tell me. I'd love to hear more about them."

James smiled gratefully at her. "They thought it was hilarious. They'd try to throw us off by adding things to the inside of their presents. Paperweights, or bells, that sort of thing. They gave Sirius an enormous rock once. He thought he was getting a new helmet for his motorbike — you should have seen his face!"

Lily laughed. "They sound like fun, your parents."

He nodded. "They were the best." His smile faded; he stared very intently at the present he was holding, as if it something terrible would happen if he took his eyes off it.

"I think your parents and I have similar taste in gifts," she said.

"Yeah? How's that?"

She gestured towards the present. "There's just a bunch of old rags in there. Needed to get rid of them, and figured you'd be grateful for anything, so…"

James laughed. "Is that right? Suppose I can't complain — it's what I deserve after getting you those potions, isn't it?" He tore the wrapping off the box and peeked inside, then looked at her in surprise. "A pair of jeans?"

"I wasn't sure of your size," admitted Lily as he pulled the jeans out of the box to admire them more closely. "Muggles use different units of measurement than wizards, you know. I can return them, if they don't fit —"

"Nah, no need," said James. "I've got a knack for Mending Charms. If they don't fit I can alter them in about two minutes flat."

"Really?" asked Lily, surprised. He certainly hadn't had a talent for tailoring clothing when they were in Hogwarts.

"Yeah. Picked it up a few years back," he explained, holding the waistband of the jeans to his hips. "Towards the end of the war. Sirius and I spent months living in a forest in Albania, looking for — well, it doesn't matter. And afterwards, Voldemort had about a dozen Death Eaters hunting for us, so we couldn't exactly waltz into Madam Malkin's and buy a set of new robes. We got good at making do with what we had."

It was the most information she'd ever gotten about James' involvement in the war. She was dying to know more, but didn't know how to go about asking. "I can't imagine Sirius enjoyed being on the run. He likes his creature comforts, doesn't he?"

James laughed as if she'd said something funny. "You'd be surprised." He glanced at her, seeming to weigh whether or not to say something. "We came to St Mungo's around that same time. It was a few months before the war ended, I dunno if you remember…?"

"I do," she said. The memory of a panicked James holding an unconscious Sirius wasn't one she would forget easily. James' hair had been so much longer, matted with sweat and blood. She'd assumed he'd grown it out intentionally, but if he'd been running from Death Eaters… Maybe getting a haircut hadn't been a priority.

"The Lestranges caught up to us," explained James. "I barely managed to get Sirius away from them. I didn't want to go to St Mungo's — thought there'd be more Death Eaters waiting for us there — but everything ended up alright." He paused, remembering. "I never did thank you, you know. For saving his life."

"Please don't," she said automatically. "Thank me, I mean. I was just doing my job."

James shrugged. "Thanks for doing your job, then."

"You don't…?" she trailed off.

"Don't what?"

She grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky and refilled her glass. She needed a little liquid courage for this. "You don't resent me?"

James frowned. "Why would I resent you?"

"For not joining the Order." Her cheeks burned, and she took a long drink to conceal her flush. "Sometimes I feel like — like you lot are all judging me. For not joining when everyone else did."

"Don't be daft, Evans." He said her last name playfully, like they were still at Hogwarts. "If you'd joined the Order, you wouldn't have completed your Healer training, and then where would we be? You've saved the lives of about half Order at this point, if not more —"

"There were people I couldn't save, too."

"Sure," said James, "but nobody faults you for that. We were at war: sometimes people die. If anything, I think people in the Order are grateful that you were one of the Healers working in the MA&E. I know Dumbledore is."

Lily didn't know how to process this information. The Order, grateful for _her_? "Dumbledore was grateful? How do you mean?" She hadn't thought he'd given her even a second thought after she'd graduated Hogwarts.

"He knew you were on our side," said James simply. "He always sent people to be examined while you were working. Not just Order members, either — injured civilians, targets of Death Eater attacks, that sort of thing."

In hindsight, it seemed obvious. She'd always seemed to end up with the worst cases and the sickest patients. "It's a good thing I work so much, then."

The joke was weak, but James smiled. "Better for the Order, at least. You could probably afford to take a holiday or two now, though." He rose from the couch, draping the jeans over his arm. "I'm going to get your present. No peeking; I'll be back in a minute."

Lily shut her eyes obediently, listening to the sound of James' footfalls as he ascended the stairs. He returned a couple of minutes later.

"Alright," he said, and she opened her eyes. He was holding something invisible with both hands, and he'd changed into the jeans she'd got him. They looked a little tight around the hips and thighs, but fit well otherwise. And now that he'd changed into something more flattering than flowing wizard's trousers, there was no denying it: James Potter was very fit.

"Like what you see?" He swivelled, giving her a view of his arse.

Lily's flush returned; her face felt like it was on fire. "You look good."

"We're even now," he said, taking a seat beside her on the sofa. "This is payback for the dress you wore to Sirius and Remus' party."

There was something in his tone of voice that caught her attention, and she looked at him accusingly. "You made the jeans tighter on purpose!"

"I would never," he said, but he winked at her. "Anyway, my arse isn't your Christmas present."

_Shame_, she thought, but she wasn't nearly drunk enough to say that out loud.

He licked his lips, seeming suddenly nervous, and held the invisible present out to her. "For you. A real present, this time."

She took the invisible gift from him; it felt like a soft blanket covering something hard and smooth. The softness of the fabric was familiar.

"Your Invisibility Cloak survived the war?" she asked, rubbing a bit of the silky cloth between her fingers. She had fond memories of this Cloak. They'd used it to sneak out of the common room, down to the Room of Many Things, where they'd…

The hand that was touching the Cloak curled into a fist. Best not think about that right now.

James cleared his throat. "You can just take the Cloak off. I had to improvise a bit, couldn't have covered it with wrapping paper, because… Well, you'll see."

Carefully, Lily pulled the Cloak away from the object it was covering. When she saw what was underneath, her chest tightened. The Cloak fell in a shimmery heap across both of their laps, forgotten.

He'd gotten her a vase of sunflowers. Real, living sunflowers, with velvety golden petals and dark clusters of seeds at their centre. But sunflowers didn't grow in winter. How had he…?

"These are lovely," said Lily softly. "Truly. Thank you." She set the vase in her lap, clutching it with both hands. She didn't know what else to say.

"I don't know if you remember," said James, "but we, er, had a row about sunflowers in year seven."

She winced. "I remember. I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have —"

"You? I'm the one who should be apologizing. I was an insensitive prick!" The words poured out of him, as if he'd been waiting to say them for some time. "All you wanted were some flowers to remember your mum by, and I shot you down. I was so _stupid _as a teenager, I had no idea —"

"James, that's not —"

"I called you ridiculous." His mouth twisted bitterly around the word. "I told you to _calm down_. I can't believe you didn't hex me on the spot. It's been eating me up, especially since my parents have passed. I get it now, I had no right to —"

This was not how she remembered their breakup going at all. "James."

"What? Don't act like I wasn't a right bastard. There's a Pensieve upstairs, if you need proof…"

That caught her attention. Had he used the Pensieve to relive their breakup? And if he had, was it possible he'd used it to view… other things, too?

"James. I don't blame you for our break up."

He looked at her, both hands caught in his tangle of hair. "You don't?"

"Of course not." She couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation. "I was miserable to be around as a teenager. Especially after my mum died — I was a _nightmare_."

James was shaking his head. "Nah, you weren't. Anyone would've…"

"I had screaming matches with the Fat Lady because she wasn't smart enough to back down," said Lily. "I'd row with a _painting_, James. I was out of order."

"You weren't," said James, but he didn't sound convinced.

"I was. And I remember saying some nasty things to you, too." She looked into the vase of sunflowers instead of meeting his eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this vulnerable with somebody.

"Yeah, well." James grimaced. "Nothing you hadn't already told me for years, so…"

She didn't laugh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I am." Her eyes began to prickle, which was no good; she couldn't cry on James Potter. Especially not on Christmas.

The tea set with the Firewhisky on it clattered as James set it on the floor. He scooted closer to her and put a hand on her back. The gesture would have sent a jolt of electricity down her spine had she not been about to cry.

Her throat tightened, and she tried to lighten her tone. "If you don't forgive me, I'll have to keep being sorry forever. You don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not." His voice was soothing as he scratched her back. "I'll tell you what. If you forgive me for being an immature arsehole, I'll forgive you for being human. How's that sound?"

He was downplaying how horrid she had been, and she was tempted to tell him so, but something stopped her. It wasn't like he was unaware of her flaws; on the contrary, he was intimately acquainted with them, more so than most. And still he was gracious with her. He'd always been that way.

"Alright," she said softly, and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His hand on her back froze for a moment, then continued to scratch her gently.

How long they stayed like that, Lily didn't know. She didn't want to move for fear of breaking the spell was keeping them there. For surely there must be a spell that was making him stroke her back like this, and surely only magic could explain why it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually, James cleared his throat. "Lily," he said huskily.

She didn't lift her head from his shoulder. "Mmm?"

"You don't have a boyfriend, right?"

She nearly laughed; he sounded so sweetly innocent. "No, I don't."

"Good," he said, and he shifted, cupping her cheek with his hand and tilting her face towards him. "Can I just."

He was so close.

"Please," she said, and he kissed her, and it was familiar and foreign all at once. She knew him intimately, knew the heat of his lips on hers and scrape of the stubble on his chin. She folded into him, and he kissed her more deeply, and she let him.

He was broader than she remembered. Her hands wandered down his chest, relearning the hard planes of his stomach. He knew how to kiss her under her jaw, on the soft part of her neck. And when he set the vase of sunflowers aside to lay her on her back, she let him.

He kissed her down her throat, to the hollow of her clavicle, his body heavy and warm on top of hers. She decided to do him a favour and Vanish both of their jumpers. Her skin cooled as he sucked in a breath, surprised.

"They were just getting in the way," she said. "Don't you think?"

"Quite," he said, and he ran his hands along her sides, admiring her. Heat flared in the pit of her stomach. He looked at her the same way he had years ago, in the Room of Many Things. He gazed at her body as if she was something to worship; he touched her with reverence. She loved him for it.

She put her hand against the back of his head, bringing him closer, and placed a kiss against the scar on his brow. His lips found hers, gentle and firm. She could feel him smiling.

She couldn't keep his mouth on hers for long. He seemed determined to kiss every inch of her body, until she gasped, breathless, tangling her hands into his hair.

It had been a long time since she had a lover like this, who knew just what she needed without her having to ask. And when he kissed down her stomach, pulling off her skirt, she let him.

Because she was being kissed by James the Head Boy and James the war hero, but mostly just James, the man she had missed for a very long time.

* * *

"I have an idea," she said some time later. They had moved from the sofa to his bed, and she was thoroughly enjoying lounging about while he ran his fingers through her hair.

"So do I," murmured James, and he pressed her more tightly against him.

"Mine first," she said, sitting up. The idea had been percolating in her head for a while, and she spoke quickly, before she could lose her nerve. "Why didn't you put up any Christmas lights this year?"

James pushed himself up to sit beside her. "There wasn't any point. Decorating an empty house is… depressing."

"But it doesn't have to be," she said. "Everyone knows the Potters have the best Christmas lights in Godric's Hollow. I think you should keep the tradition alive."

James found his glasses on the bedside table and put them on. He seemed to be considering her proposition. "My mum _would _be disappointed to see I hadn't put up any lights. She'd think I was moping, and Euphemia Potter doesn't tolerate moping."

"You see? It'd be a good way to remember them by. And I… I could help, if you wanted. So you wouldn't have to do it alone." She flushed, hoping he wouldn't think she was trying to insert herself into his family tradition.

"Am I hearing things?" asked James, sticking a finger in one ear. "Or did you just volunteer to help spread a bit of Christmas cheer?"

She made a face at him. "There's still time for me to go back on my offer, you know."

"You wouldn't." He put a finger to her brow, smoothing it. "Your face is going to freeze like that."

She made an even worse face, and he kissed her on her nose. "You're cute," he said. "Alright, then."

"Alright?"

"Yeah. Let's do it." Energized, he jumped out of bed and pulled on his new jeans. "Everything's in the loft," he said, tossing her jumper at her. "I'll show you."

James wasn't kidding; the loft contained dozens of boxes stuffed full of Christmas decorations. They got to work, dragging the boxes down and unpacking the years of holiday adornments the Potters had collected. She found his stocking nestled at the bottom of a particularly battered box; while he strung garlands along the bannister of the stairs, she hung it at the foot of his bed.

There wasn't a Christmas tree, so James Transfigured one from a potted plant. He'd always had a knack for Transfiguration, and Lily tried to hide her admiration as he turned its smooth leaves into clusters of bristling pine needles.

After the interior of the cottage was sufficiently decorated, James lent her a coat and they ventured outside, snow crunching under their boots. He put himself in charge of the lights, hanging string after string across the roof and around the windows, while Lily arranged an impromptu pantomime in the front garden using an armful of Charmed dolls.

When they had finished, they stepped onto the street, admiring their work. It certainly wasn't the most elaborate holiday decorations the Potter cottage had ever seen, but it was enough. The house glowed softly with holiday cheer, and warm candlelight flickered in the windows, beckoning them inside.

"You were right," said James. "The place looks better like this." His breath crystallized in the cold night air. "I feel better, too."

Lily leaned into him. "Happy Christmas, James."

He draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and kissed the top of her head. "You know," he said, "You probably shouldn't try to Apparate home. What if you Splinch yourself?"

"Good point," said Lily. "What do you suggest, then?"

"You'll have to stay here," he said. "At least for a while longer. You haven't tried any of the cake, and we haven't popped any Christmas crackers yet."

She opened her mouth to protest — she hated Christmas crackers — when she realized he was grinning. "You're taking the piss!"

"Course not," he said, winking. "There's a cracker with your name on it waiting inside."

He dropped his arm from her shoulder and took her hand, pulling her towards the cottage. And she let him.

It was Christmas, after all, and they had loads of catching up to do.

* * *

**A/N:** So this one-shot thing is pretty fun! Think I'll do it again sometime :) In the meantime, all I want for Christmas is you... (to leave a review, or a favourite, or you know, any sort of validation you might want to give my little writer's heart!)

Wishing you a joyeux noel and felices fiestas!


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